


Two Spies & A Baby

by GoDownWithThisShip



Series: You Can Pry Bi Natasha Out of My Cold Dead Hands [3]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash, Fix-It, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoDownWithThisShip/pseuds/GoDownWithThisShip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a canon divergence for the Daredevil: Guardian Devil arc. If you haven't read the arc, a summary of the arc and a deeper explanation of how this fic fits into canon is explained in the author's note!</p><p>Matt dumps a baby onto Natasha and she has to deal with the maternal feelings that come along with it. As well as memories she'd rather forget. She calls Sharon in as back up and it turns out they work even better together than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Spies & A Baby

**Author's Note:**

> **Guardian Devil Summary:** Matt Murdock has a teenage mom come into his office one day and insist that he has to protect her child. She insists the child is the second coming of Jesus Christ. Matt then dumps the baby off on Natasha to take care of while he sorts the whole thing out. A mysterious stranger comes into Matt's life and convinces him that the baby is actually the anti-Christ. Matt then confronts Natasha because he thinks she's working against him. He and Natasha fight and he ultimately ends up running off with the baby.
> 
> This fic starts off at the moment Natasha gets the baby and it finishes with the emotional aftermath of the incident where Matt beats her up and leaves her on a rooftop.

Natasha looks down at the squirming baby in her arms, still frozen to the spot. The baby looks up at her with a face that looks like kneaded dough and a smell that explains why Matt had been afraid to change her. _Him_ , Natasha corrects herself. _Matt had referred to the baby as a him_. With the baby cradled in one arm, his head supported by her bicep, she pokes around the pile of baby stuff on the coffee table and couch. Everything still has price tags on it, suggesting Matt had rushed out and bought everything the minute this child was thrown into his arms. The baby fusses, and Natasha gently shushes him as she comes across a package of diapers and an unopened pack of baby wipes.

 

She clears off space on the couch and sets the baby down on one of the cushions. As she struggles to figure out how the hell the baby’s onesie is supposed to come off, the baby’s fussing gets even worse. The baby’s blue eyes scrunch up and he makes more and more little noises at the back of his throat. She starts to hum part of a lullaby. The words are lost to her, missing to the past that had consumed almost all of her.

 

She manages to get the little snaps undone and while she gets to work on changing the diaper, her mind wanders. What she had assumed was going to be a booty call has turned out to be something even more complicated. _Leave it to Matt to make things complicated_. There’s an anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. Part of the anger is directed at Matt, but a lot of her anger is directed at herself. _You left him! You left him and he barely picks up the phone and you’ve already expected the worst. What are you doing down here?_ She knows the answer to her own question. _I love him_.

 

Turns out Matt’s wrong. The baby is a girl. She gets the baby changed, breathing through her mouth the whole time and buttons the onesie back up. After tossing the soiled diaper in Matt’s trash she comes back to stand in front of the couch, looking down at the baby. For a fleeting moment she considers leaving her on the couch. The baby _is_ Matt’s problem after all. But, she knows Matthew Murdock, more importantly she knows post-breakup Matthew Murdock. He can barely take care of himself, let alone an infant. Only a couple days old by the look of it.

 

The baby coos and stretches her little limbs and something pulls at Natasha’s heart. Something warm and maternal. She tries to swallow it down. “What are you looking at?” she mumbles as she stoops down to scoop the baby up. She’s careful to make sure the baby’s neck is supported before she makes her way to the open window. “Guess this means you’re stuck with me.”

 

* * *

 

It’s late and Natasha feels a little guilty when she picks up the phone. She pauses for a moment before she punches out the phone number with her index finger and waits. The phone rings a couple of times before a familiar voice answers. “Yeah?”

 

Natasha doesn’t even know what to say. “Hey, Share-bear,” she says quietly.

 

Sharon groans, “You know how I feel about that nickname.”

 

“Sorry,” Natasha says with a soft laugh.

 

The line is quiet for a few moments before Sharon speaks, “So, is there something wrong or is this a social call?”

 

“It’s a little of both,” Natasha says, pinning the phone between her ear and her shoulder. She makes her way over to the cardboard box that had formerly held a very fancy coffee maker but is now lined with blankets and contains a slumbering infant. “I’m in kind of a weird situation and I’d like some advice.”

 

“What happened?” There is an edge of concern to her voice.

 

“Well, it started with a call from an old friend.” Natasha makes her way over to the window to look out on the Kitchen.

 

“Which old friend?” Suspicion joins the concern in her voice.

 

Natasha bites her lower lip. “Matthew.”

 

“Murdock?” Sharon’s voice is slightly raised.

 

“How many other Matthews do I know?” Natasha can hear the irritation in her voice and she takes a few deep breaths. “Anyway, I’m back at my place in Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

“He must’ve had one Hell of an offer.” There’s another note in Sharon’s voice, something Natasha can’t quite place. Maybe it’s judgment. Maybe it’s disappointment.

 

“That’s what I thought at first, but-“ She pauses, glancing over her shoulder at the box. “-I got a little more than I bargained for.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“He sort of surprised me. With a baby.” Natasha cringes. This is somehow one of the weirdest situations she’s ever found herself in. Which is really saying something.

 

“You wanna run that by me again?”

 

“So, I dropped by his place. I wore the suit and everything. Like I said, I was expecting a more…fun encounter. And he was sitting there with this…baby on his lap. So, my first thought is, _Jesus Christ,_ Matthew Murdock has finally knocked someone up. But it isn’t his baby.”

 

“Is his law practice suffering to the point where he has to moonlight as a sitter?” Sharon’s flat tone incites a chuckle from Natasha.

 

“Actually, he claims someone came into his office and just dumped this baby on him. She thinks the baby’s the second coming or something.”

 

“The second coming of _what_?” Sharon asks immediately.

 

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Christ.”

 

“As in _Jesus Christ_?”

 

“How many other Christs do you know?”

 

“You…you don’t buy that. Right?” The question is insulting.

 

“Come on, Sharon. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Natasha starts to pace idly, suddenly filled with antsy energy.

 

“So, does _Matt_ believe this kid is the second coming of Christ?”

 

Natasha exhales sharply. “I think so.”

 

“You need to keep that baby safe, Nat. You need to keep that baby safe and out of Matt’s hands. I don’t like this at all.”

 

“Join the club,” Natasha replies flatly.

 

“…And Matt called _you_. To take care of his Christ baby?”

 

“Yeah.” Natasha switches the phone to the other ear. “He really doesn’t have anyone else.”

 

“But you guys broke up forever ago.”

 

“Oh, he moved on.” The anger is coming back. “But they broke up too, apparently.”

 

Sharon sighs and is quiet for a moment. “Do-“ Natasha can hear Sharon breathing quietly on the other end of the line. “Do you want me to come down?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Natasha smiles into the receiver.

 

“Give me a couple hours.”

 

* * *

 

True to her word, there’s a gentle knock at the door about three hours later. Natasha gets off the couch and makes her way to answer it, stifling a yawn with her left hand. She leans against the wood and stands on her tip-toes to look out the peep hole. “Who is it?” she asks, watching Sharon through the fish-eye glass.

 

“Open up,” Sharon replies, rolling her eyes.

 

Natasha slides the deadbolt and opens the door. “Well, well, what a surprise.”

 

Sharon slides a duffle bag further up her shoulder. “Fancy running into you here.” She’s tired, Natasha can see it in the way she carries herself. It’s written all over her face.

 

She steps aside and lets Sharon pass. “Nice place,” Sharon remarks, looking around as she makes her way further into Natasha’s apartment. “Is this the baby I’ve been hearing so much about?” she stops in front of the cardboard box and peeks inside.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha replies, closing and locking the door. She makes her way into the living room.

 

“Doesn’t look like the second coming.” Sharon drops her dufflebag on the floor and squats down to get a closer look. “I would expect a halo at least.”

 

Natasha lets out a snort of laughter. She stands for a moment, watching Sharon look down at the baby with an expression caught between exhaustion and puzzlement. “You can take my bed,” Natasha says, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 

“Nat, it’s your house-“ Sharon begins, but Natasha cuts her off.

 

“Exactly. It’s my house and I’m insisting on sleeping on the couch.”

 

Sharon looks like she’s going to argue for a moment, but instead she straightens up, hikes her dufflebag up over her shoulder, and makes her way over to Natasha’s bedroom. “I’m about to pass out. We can talk in the morning.”

 

“Night.” The bedroom door creaks shut and Natasha stoops down to unfold the fleece blanket set at the end of the couch. She collapses into the cushions and envelops herself in the blanket. For once, she falls asleep instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

She snaps to attention and it takes her a millisecond to realize why. She sits up and yawns widely as the living room is filled with the shrill cries of an infant. Natasha leans over to turn on the floor lamp next to the couch, bathing the room in muted light. The bedroom door flies open and Sharon appears wearing a pair of loose fitting sweat pants and a tank top. Her blonde hair is distinctly out of place in the most endearing version of bed head Natasha’s ever seen. Sharon trudges over to peer into the box, her mouth forming a tight line. “What does it want?”

 

Natasha can’t help but laugh quietly, mostly to herself. She sits up and carefully fishes the baby out of the box. Her fists are balled up and her face screwed up into an expression that reminds Natasha of agony. Of course, the baby has only been alive for a few days. The discomfort the baby is experiencing right now is one of the worst feeling she’s ever experienced. This little creature knows nothing of pain and Natasha finds a weird sort of comfort in that. “Well, I just changed her-“ Natasha checks the wall clock. It’s almost five in the morning. “-Actually, I should probably check on that again.”

 

She sets the baby down on the couch, which is still warm from her sleeping form. “Can you heat up a bottle for me, real quick? There’s formula on the kitchen counter.”

 

“What you mean like in the microwave?” Sharon’s voice is still coated in sleep and Natasha tries really hard to not find it cute.

 

“I’m pretty sure microwaving a bottle is the last thing you want to do,” Natasha replies. Getting to the baby’s diaper to check things out is difficult with all four of the baby’s limbs flailing at once. The shrieks are starting to give her a headache.

 

Sharon groans, rubs her eye with one of her hands and makes her way over to the kitchen, flipping on the light as she goes. “So, what am I working with here?” her voice carries easily through the small apartment.

 

“Heat up some water on the stove, doesn’t have to be boiling, just lukewarm. Do up a bottle, there’s instructions on the can, and pop it in the water,” Natasha explains as she checks the little one and sighs at the wet mess in front of her. Luckily, she picked up some baby stuff of her own. She fishes a pack of diapers and a container of wipes out from under the table and gets to work.

 

She can feel Sharon’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t look up. Once she wrestles a fresh diaper onto the baby and snaps her back up, she lifts her up into her arms. She begins to bounce on the balls of her feet, making her way slowly around the coffee table. The baby quiets down a bit at the rocking motion and she begins to quietly hum again. It’s the same lullaby from before and the baby simmers down even more.

 

A few minutes later, Sharon is at her side, holding out a warm plastic bottle and Natasha adjusts the baby so that she’s in a more upright position. She offers the bottle to the baby, and it’s difficult because she’s still fussing, but in the end she takes it. “How do you know what to do?” Sharon’s voice is quiet. “This isn’t the kind of thing they teach you in the academy.”

 

Natasha looks up at her and shrugs. “Just some skills I picked up along the way.” She knows she pulls off sounding casual, but it’s like Sharon can see right through her poker face. It takes a few minutes for the baby to get her fill. Once she’s done, Natasha caries the baby back to the box and sets her down. Her eyes are already closed and her little tummy rises and falls with each breath. She sets the empty bottle next to the cardboard box.

 

Natasha hears Sharon’s footfalls against the hardwood and feels an arm around her shoulder. She allows herself to be pulled into the hug. Sharon doesn’t ask any more questions and Natasha is grateful because she doesn’t have any answers. She rests her head against Sharon’s chest and mentally counts her heartbeats. Sharon pulls away after ten. “I’m going back to bed,” she says, using a free hand to cover her mouth as she yawns.

 

“Night,” Natasha says and when Sharon’s at the bedroom door she adds, “And, thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” Sharon disappears into the other room.

 

* * *

 

 

When Natasha wakes up again, there’s a pain shooting through her neck. She sits up and stretches, the fleece blanket she was using as cover is a heap on the floor. Everything is quiet aside from a soft _clackclackclack_ of keys on a keyboard. She looks over her shoulder to see Sharon sitting at the kitchen table, her legs are curled up so that she can rest her head on her knee. “Couldn’t get vacation time?” Natasha asks as she gets to her feet. The clock on the wall says it’s nearly noon.

 

Sharon glances over her shoulder with a little smile, “Actually, this isn’t SHIELD business. I’m looking through hospital records for any information on our little second coming.”

 

“We need to figure out something a little more creative and a little less tacky to call her,” Natasha says as she gets to her feet and makes her way over to the kitchen.

 

“Naming the baby could lead to attachment.” Sharon says it evenly like she’s stating a statistic or a fact. Natasha still resents the insinuation.

 

“I wasn’t about to break out a baby name book.” Natasha opens up the refrigerator and pulls out a yogurt cup. She rifles through the silverware drawer and pulls out a spoon. “If it makes you feel more comfortable we can just call her, Baby.” _Clackclackclack._ Natasha peels back he yogurt lid and tosses it in the trash. She spoons a little bit out as she makes her way to stand behind Sharon. “Find anything worthwhile?”

 

“I tried police reports first. Missing persons. Abductions. Nothing that matches the story you gave me, although admittedly it wasn’t much to go on.”

 

“I didn’t have a chance to get any info because I was a little shocked at the fact that I just had an infant dumped on me,” Natasha replies, taking another spoonful of yogurt. Sharon turns to smirk at her and Natasha swallows her mouthful of yogurt. “What?”

 

“Just hard to imagine you in a situation like that.”

 

“Well, it’s like you said.” She idly mixes the yogurt with her spoon. “The academy didn’t quite train us for shit like this.”

 

Sharon is quiet for a moment, but when she speaks again it’s with her all-business tone of voice. “There is something weird going on, though. I was looking through hospital records- not even sure what I was looking for- and I came across a whole bunch of deaths.”

 

“It’s Hell’s Kitchen-“

 

“No, I mean.” Sharon sighs and pulls up a page that looks a lot like a spreadsheet. Natasha leans closer and her eyes widen. If the statistics in front of her are right, half of the babies being born at the hospital are dying. Some of the mothers too. Her stomach churns and she’s worried her yogurt might come back up.

 

“What does it mean?” she asks, not looking away from the numbers in front of her.

 

“Honestly?” Sharon exhales. “I have no idea.” She’s quiet for a moment. “It could just be a coincidence.”

 

Natasha sets her yogurt down on the table and collapses into the chair next to Sharon. “Why does weird shit like this always seem to happen to me?”

 

“No offense,” Sharon begins as she reaches out for Natasha’s spoon. She scoops out some of the remaining yogurt and slips the spoon into her mouth. Natasha watches as she puts the spoon back into the cup. “It might have something to do with your taste in men.”

 

Natasha snorts and Sharon shoots her a look. There are barbed words ready in Natasha’s mouth but she swallows them. “Maybe you’re right.” Is all she can manage. She pushes the yogurt cup over toward Sharon who picks it up and begins to finish it off.

 

“Why do you keep going back to guys you say you’re done with?” Sharon’s tone is soft. It’s not an accusation.

 

Natasha shrugs and sits back in her seat. The question is too personal and as much as she likes Sharon, it’s not something she can talk about right now. No, this is the kind of thing she normally bottles up and hides away. Saving it for a conversation where everyone is yelling and everything gets blown way out of proportion. “Why do you?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, like a gust of frigid air. Sharon’s neutral face twists into a scowl. “You’re right. It’s none of my business,” Natasha adds quickly because as much as she hates to admit it, Sharon is a comfort to have around right now. In this weird situation at least. And she has no desire to chase Sharon off.

 

The two are quiet for a moment as Sharon finishes off the yogurt. She sets it down on the table and leans forward to type some more. “I also did a little bit of Google searching.”

 

“On what’s going on?”

 

“Not quite.” Sharon turns the laptop so that Natasha can see the screen. “Just some articles about infant care. Turns out you were right to use a box, but you don’t want to drape the blanket over Baby like that. You also want to get rid of the extra crap you’ve got in there.” Natasha’s insides twist into a tighter knot because the article Sharon’s pulled up is entitled _Avoiding SIDS_. _God…what if-_ Her discomfort has to be obvious because Sharon jumps in immediately. “You did a good job.” Her hand is on Natasha’s arm. “Better than Matthew could have done anyway.”

 

Natasha laughs a little at that, her stomach relaxes a bit. “That’s not saying much.”

 

“I also found-“ Sharon angles the laptop back toward her and types out something in the search bar. Natasha leans over to get a better view.

 

“Oh my God,” Natasha says with a laugh. “You’re a Pinterest mom.”

 

“What?” Sharon tears her eyes away from the do-it-yourself baby bjorn instructions to give Natasha a puzzled look.

 

“A Pinterest mom,” Natasha repeats, “You know, those suburban ladies who do DIY everything and have like a hundred mason jars in their cabinets.”

 

“So, I guess you’re not interested in the ’10 creative things you can do with a mason jar’ article I found, huh?”

 

Natasha laughs and shakes her head, “Please tell me that’s not real.”

 

“Mason jars are an important staple to any household, Natasha.” The fake-seriousness of Sharon’s voice makes Natasha laugh even harder. They are quiet as Sharon continues typing and Natasha gets up to throw the yogurt cup away. She’s at the kitchen sink, washing her spoon, when Sharon speaks again, “Have you heard from Matt at all?”

 

Natasha dries off the spoon with a dish rag and tosses it back into the silverware drawer. She makes her way over to the couch. Her phone sits on the armrest, still plugged into the wall behind it. She unplugs it and wakes it from sleep. “No missed calls. No messages,” Natasha reports.

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Sharon asks, snapping her laptop shut.

 

“I was just going to run a few errands today, if you want to stay and watch the-“

 

Sharon laughs, “I’m no stay at home mom, Nat.” She gets up and stretches her back. “Besides, I could use a little fresh air.”

 

* * *

 

 

Between the two of them, they manage to fashion a makeshift baby-sling out of a spare blanket. Natasha wears the sling across her body with Baby curled up inside. The air is crisp and Natasha absently reaches down to pull Baby’s knitted hat down over her ears. Sharon walks close to her in an attempt to take up the least amount of space on the narrow sidewalk. In one of her hands, she carries the groceries Natasha has been meaning to pick up and in the other she carries her usual Starbucks order. Caramel Macchiato.

 

Sharon huffs as Natasha fishes her phone out of her back pocket. “Something you’d like to share?” She asks as she presses the small button on the side. Her screen lights up, telling her the time is currently 2:04 pm, and she has no new notifications.

 

“Don’t get hung up on him, Natasha.” There’s that soft, non-confrontational voice again. It does nothing to quell the fire inside her.

 

“No one’s hung up,” Natasha replies easily as she slips her phone back into her pocket.

 

The walk in silence for a few paces and Natasha takes a sip of her drink. It’s bitter with only a hint of sweetness. “He shouldn’t have dumped this on you.”

 

“Let’s not talk about this now,” Natasha says, still holding the coffee cup to her lips.

 

Sharon takes the hint and they continue walking until the come to one of the new boutiques that have slowly been popping up in the city. A sign of changing times. This one boasts handmade maternity and infant clothes and goods. Made in the USA! Organic material only! Natasha pauses in front of it. In the store beyond her reflection she can make out the cribs and the mannequins boasting full bellies and floral-print dresses. Sharon is at her side. “I think I should pick up a real sling or something. For her safety.”

 

She expects Sharon to argue, but Sharon nods and the two of them make their way into the shop. A bell above the door tinkles to alert the woman behind the counter of their presence. “Good afternoon!” she says in a high-pitched, sweet voice. “Is there something I can help you ladies with today?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Natasha uses her civilian voice and flashes the woman a smile. “We’re looking for a sling or bjorn. Something that I can strap to my back to carry Baby around in.”

 

The woman beams and makes her way over to the far wall and motions them closer. Natasha follows easily, but she can feel Sharon lag behind. “We’ve got a pretty good selection on the floor, but if you don’t find what you’re looking for, we also have an online catalogue. You can pick out whatever you’d like and have it shipped to your home or to the store for pickup.”

 

“Thank you.” Natasha flashes her another smile as she examines the selection in front of her.

 

“Where did you get this one?” the woman asks, gesturing to the sling around Natasha’s body.

 

“Oh!” Natasha laughs and looks over her shoulder at Sharon who is acting like she’s making her way through a minefield. “We found some instructions online and were feeling a little crafty.”

 

The woman’s eyes light up as she glances between Sharon and Natasha. ‘That’s so cute!” she laughs. “I just want you to know that we support _all_ couples, here.”

 

Natasha’s first instinct is to argue but she just nods. “Thanks.”

 

Sharon finally comes up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the selection of slings. “What about that one?” she asks, pointing toward the one with the thickest straps. It’s padded and sturdy. Probably the best choice in regards to safety. Natasha reaches out with her free hand to take it from the wall. The price is a little steep, but it’s nothing her monthly SHIELD expenditure account can’t handle.

 

“Looks good,” she says. They pay for the bjorn and leave with it in a paper shopping bag.

 

Sharon finishes her drink off and tosses it into an overflowing trashcan at the corner. “What a socially conscious shop,” Sharon remarks.

 

Natasha lets out a snort of laughter. “You heard that?”

 

“Of course,” Sharon replies. “I also heard you rolling with it.”

 

“Well, it was easier to agree than to come up with an alternative.”

 

Sharon seems to accept the answer.

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright you’re going to want to take that corner and tuck it…yeah.” Sharon and Natasha are sitting cross-legged on the couch. Sharon on the far left seat, the baby squirming in the middle seat and Natasha on the far right seat. Sharon’s laptop is open on her right knee and she keeps glancing between it and the baby.

 

Natasha tries to wrangle with the little blanket to swaddle the baby up. Apparently, there’s an article for every part of childcare online. “Got it, then what?”

 

The baby coos as she whips her arm out from beneath the blanket and Natasha sighs. She carefully holds the baby’s arm down as she wraps the other side. “Okay now…take that side.” Sharon points. “And fold it across. Make sure it’s tight.”

 

By the time Baby’s all wrapped up, she seems tuckered out and blinks slowly up at Natasha. She can feel her chest swell with warmth as she looks down at Baby’s glittering blue eyes. She reaches down and carefully scoops the baby up into her arms, leaning against the back of the couch for support. Sharon moves in closer, setting her laptop down on the far seat and settling into the middle one. “Are you sure that’s not your kid?”

 

“Shut up.” There is no malice in Natasha’s voice.

 

“I’m serious! You both have the same sleepy face.”

 

“How do you know about my sleepy face?” Natasha smirks at Sharon who looks away. Natasha decides not to press the issue and instead reaches for the remote on the coffee table, careful not to jostle the infant now asleep in her arms. “Netflix?”

 

“Yeah,” Sharon settles back against the couch and Natasha gets the menu pulled up. Tony is the one who pays for the account. Natasha has her own profile, but other honorable mentions include the profiles Clinton, Clintoff, and Butt Munch. Clinton of course belongs to Clint, Clintoff she gathered belongs to Sam. She’s still not entirely sure who Butt Munch is supposed to be but they watch a lot of sappy Rom-Coms.

 

Natasha accesses her profile and her recently watched shows appear on the top row. She hastily scrolls down. “What are you in the mood for?”

 

“Surprise me.”

 

They end up settling on a spy-flick and they spend the entire movie correcting the common misconceptions about their occupation. At one point Sharon lets out a snort of laughter. “As if never before tested tech would work on the first try like that. Or work at all for that matter. Hell, even regular issue crap malfunctions half the time.”

 

“Were you a liaison back when SHIELD sent me to recon a HYDRA base in the middle of the Atlantic with that idiotic invisibility tech?”

 

Sharon chuckles. “I don’t think so, but oh my God, do you mean those discs that you could attach to your suit and you press them-“

 

“Yes!” Natasha laughs. “I hated those so much!”

 

“What happened at the HYDRA base?”

 

“Well, most of the mission went well because I wasn’t going to rely on SHIELD’s prototype technology. Not for something as big as that.”

 

“Understandable.” Sharon nods.

 

“Well, long story short, I end up with my back against a wall, staring down a Goddamn army and I figure I can get away so I press the button and…nothing.” Natasha adjusts the baby in her arms.

 

“Well consider yourself lucky,” Sharon says with a little laugh. “We had one guy try one of those out and the damn thing didn’t shut off. Took a whole day to figure out how to make him reappear.”

 

“Yikes,” Natasha says turning her gaze back to the television. “How did they get him to be visible again?”

 

“The battery died.”

 

They sit there making little comments and laughing quietly until the movie almost done. Baby awakes with a little less than half an hour left and starts to wriggle and make those little noises. “Uh oh,” Natasha says, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’ll heat up a bottle.” Sharon gets to her feet followed closely by Natasha.

 

“I can get it, if you want to hold her,” Natasha offers.

 

Sharon looks between her and the baby with a thin smile. She shakes her head. “No thanks.” She makes her way into the kitchen and gets the bottle started. Natasha follows, rocking gently as she moves. Behind her, rain begins to splatter against the window.

 

After Baby is fed, she falls asleep in Natasha’s arms. Natasha carefully sets her down in the box and straightens up. The clock says it’s almost five. “I need a nap,” Natasha says, watching the second hand tick by.

 

“You’ve only been up for a couple of hours,” Sharon remarks.

 

“It’s been a long day.” Natasha glances over at her. “We got a lot done.”

 

“Planning on going somewhere tonight, then?”

 

“I don’t know where you get such ideas,” Natasha says in a scandalized tone. Sharon doesn’t laugh. “I’m worried. I need to go out and see what Matt’s up to.”

 

“You don’t _need_ to do anything.”

 

Natasha gives an exasperated sigh. “He needs my help. I know Matthew. This baby isn’t the only thing he needs help taking care of.”

 

Sharon rubs her temple with her fingers as if she’s fighting off a migraine. “I don’t like it, but I know it’s not worth the time to try to stop you.”

 

“Great! So, you know your way around the place. Food’s in the fridge. Netflix’s on the TV.” She makes her way to her room. “I’ll crash in here.”

 

“It’s your house,” Sharon says, taking a seat on the couch. “Crash where you’d like.” She’s upset. She’s not going to outwardly show it- conceal don’t feel might as well be the SHIELD mantra. But, Natasha’s spent enough time in the business to know how to read people. And Sharon is upset. But, the thing is, Natasha isn’t quite sure why. She slips into her bedroom and changes out of her street clothes into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. When she settles into the sheets, they smell unfamiliar. She mentally catalogues the smell as Sharon.

 

* * *

 

 

When Natasha wakes up, the only light comes from the orange street lamps outside. She sits up and glances at the clock on her bedside table. It reads 8:18pm. She groans and swings her legs over the side of the bed and just sits for a moment. For a split second she contemplates staying in tonight. She and Sharon could do a spy-flick double feature, curl up on the couch, maybe pop some popcorn. The thought gives her a warm feeling, but she thinks of Matt and how frantic and practically unhinged he looked the last time she saw him. This is the kind of Matt that slips up, makes a mistake, and gets hurt. She sighs and gets to her feet, making her way over to the closet.

 

She throws open the door and pushes back the clothes, the hangers rattling against the metal rod. She gently prods one of the wooden panels at the back of the closet and a secret compartment springs open revealing her suits, guns, and ammo. After quickly stripping down, she steps into one of the suits and tugs it up her legs. She manages to pull it up over her waist before there’s a knock at the door. Without thinking about it, she replies, “Yeah!”

 

The door creaks open and looks over her shoulder to find Sharon peeking in. “Oh!” Sharon immediately looks down at the hardwood. “Sorry, I thought-“

 

Even in the low light, Natasha can make out the color breaking out across Sharon’s cheeks and she chuckles. “Didn’t take you for a shy one,” Natasha remarks, sliding her arms into her suit and pulling it up over her shoulders. Sharon’s eyes are back on her and she can’t resist turning around as she zips up the front of her suit. The view is not particularly explicit, just part of her stomach and chest, and only lasts for a split second. But, Sharon’s eyes follow the zipper all the way up and that’s an interesting fact Natasha is most definitely storing away for later.

 

Sharon is quick to retort, “I’m not.” Before quickly adding, “I just thought you should know, there’s been police sightings of Daredevil tonight. I’ve been following the scanners.”

 

“Good work,” Natasha says, moving past her into the living room. “Where’s Matt clowning around tonight?” She stoops down to pull the new baby bjorn out of its paper bag.

 

“He’s on 11th last spotted at 47th headed south.” She knows Sharon is watching her closely. “What the hell do you think you’re doing.”

 

Natasha finishes strapping the carrier to her back and leans over to pull Baby from her makeshift crib. “It would be irresponsible of me to just leave her behind.”

 

“I can watch her,” Sharon grits out. “It’s not safe for you to take her out there.”

 

“The safest place in the world is with me,” Natasha replies, holding the baby out to Sharon. “Put her in back there for me, would ya?” She turns around and waits for Sharon’s retort.

 

“This is a bad idea,” Sharon says, and Natasha feels the weight of the baby slide against her back. Baby coos quietly in her ear.

 

Natasha turns back around, grinning at Sharon and shaking her head. “What could possibly go wrong?”

 

* * *

 

 

She comes to with a dull, pulsing headache, and a sharp pain shooting down her leg. Her cheek is pressed against the gravel rooftop and her hair clings to her face in wet strands. She pushes herself up and gingerly gets to her feet. Both the baby and Matthew are gone. Sharon had been right. This was a bad idea.

 

It takes her a while to get back to her apartment. She decides to take the long way home, not ready to face Sharon, not ready to deal with what just happened. Those who don’t know her say she’s cold, heartless. But in reality she has too much heart. She gives too many second chances. She limps across rooftops and down fire escapes in the general direction of the apartment.

 

Her building brings warmth and shelter from the pouring rain outside. She takes the stairs, not wanting to draw attention in the elevator. Each step is agony. When she finally gets to her door, she’s ready to collapse. She feels heavy. She feels awful. She pounds on the door and leans against the wood, listening for Sharon’s footsteps on the other side. For a minute, she wonders if Sharon has already gone to sleep, but she picks up the sound of her footfalls and seconds later the door is opened for her.

 

She slips past Sharon and her shaking fingers start to unclip the carrier. “What happened?” is Sharon’s first question. “Where’s the baby?” is her second question. The carrier falls to the floor with a wet _plop_ and Natasha slinks off toward the bedroom. “Natasha, is everything okay?” is Sharon’s last question.

 

“Not really,” Natasha replies flatly. Sharon sweeps into the room behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

“What happened?” Natasha allows herself to be turned around. She’s too tired to fight right now. “Oh my God you’re bleeding.”

 

“I always thought it was weird,” she’s talking mostly to herself now. “Matthew’s alias being Daredevil. I never really understood. Not until tonight.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“He really did look like the devil.”

 

“Oh my God.” Sharon’s voice is soft but when Natasha looks up at her, there’s nothing but anger etched into her face. “I’ll kill him.”

 

Natasha grips Sharon’s arms with either of her hands as if to hold her in place. “It’s not worth it.”

 

“Let me help you,” Sharon pleads.

 

“Just…help me to bed,” Natasha mumbles. Sharon nods and Natasha holds onto her shoulder as she limps over to her bed. Her fingers move to unzip her suit and she shrugs out of it. Sharon doesn’t stare this time. Natasha points to the bureau next to the bed. “Top drawer. Any shirt is fine.”

 

She collapses on top of the comforter and finishes pulling her suit off, kicking it to the side. She’s completely naked now. Her brain is screaming at her, every internalized alarm she has goes off because she is vulnerable. She is open to attack. She shuts it down quickly because Sharon Carter, the woman who answers her phone at midnight, and rushes to her side is not going to hurt her. Because of all the people she’s opened herself up to, Sharon has been the only one to handle her with care.

 

She sits up with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. The pain in her left leg still throbs. The bed dips as Sharon’s weight settles next to her. Sharon offers the large cotton shirt and Natasha slips into it quickly. “Come on.” Sharon’s voice is quiet as she helps Natasha slide up the bed and covers her up with the thick comforter. The next thing she knows there’s a cool, wet compress on her forehead. “For the bleeding,” Sharon explains. “Although, it looks like you’re mostly healed up.”

 

“Thank God for small miracles,” Natasha mumbles.

 

Sharon settles next to Natasha on top of the blankets, resting against the headboard. She reaches over to the bedside table where her tablet is charging and unplugs it. The glow of the screen illuminates her face. Her mouth is pulled into a tight line as her fingers dance over the touch screen. Natasha doesn’t ask her to leave. Sharon doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

When Natasha wakes up the next morning, the pain in her leg has vanished. She rolls over onto her back to find Sharon asleep next to her. She’s still sitting up against the backboard, her head rolled to the side at what looks like an uncomfortable angle. Natasha shifts a little and Sharon jumps. She rubs her eye with the heel of her hand and looks down at Natasha with a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Hell of a lot better than last night,” Natasha replies. Her voice is still a little raspy either from last night’s yelling or from sleep. “Thanks.”

 

Sharon’s tablet still rests in her lap and she leans over to put it back on the bedside table. “For what?”

 

“Being there. Taking care of my pathetic ass last night. I’m not sure. Pick one.” Sharon laughs under her breath but doesn’t say anything. Natasha’s chest still feels raw like someone physically reached in and tore out her heart. “Do…do you think I’d be a good mom?” The question has been tormenting her.

 

Sharon’s eyes are soft when she looks down at her. “Of course.”

 

“Don’t just say that because I’m practically a mess right now-“

 

“Natasha,” Sharon’s voice is still gentle when she cuts her off. She adjusts her position so that she’s lying down too. Natasha is still on her back, and Sharon is on her side, propping her head up in her hand and watching Natasha with clear, blue eyes. “From what I’ve seen in the past twenty four hours, I think you’d be a great mom.” Natasha is suddenly possessed by half formed memories. It’s cold. Cold to the point where she doesn’t think she’ll ever be warm again. There’s the swollen stomach barely concealed by the thick regulation wool coat. There is pain. Unbelievable pain. And for a split second there is a daughter. Then there is nothing. “Hey!” Sharon’s voice cuts through everything. Natasha’s thoughts snap back to the present. Back to Sharon’s concerned face watching her. “Still with me?”

 

She’s close. So close. The smell Natasha had catalogued as Sharon is wrapped around her like a second blanket. She’s a lone wolf, but she’s no good at being alone. She rolls over onto her side and with an unsure hand, she reaches out to touch the side of Sharon’s face. “Still with you.”

 

“Natasha,” Sharon starts the statement like she doesn’t know how to end it. “You know- you don’t – I don’t expect anything from you.”

 

Natasha’s calculated this from the minute she picked up the phone she knew this is the inevitable outcome. Sure, some of the details got a little messed up along the way. She strokes her thumb over Sharon’s cheek. “I know.” She scoots toward Sharon. “I want to.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

 

“I think, you’re running away from your issues,” Sharon says but she’s watching Natasha with dark eyes.

 

“They’ll still be there when we’re through. Trust me.” She inches closer so that their legs press together, separated only by the blankets. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Sharon.” Sharon opens her mouth to reply. “If you don’t want this, please, feel free to stop me.” There’s a moment of silence between them.

 

Instead of speaking, Sharon closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to Natasha’s. Natasha parts her lips and invites Sharon in. Sharon’s tongue is warm as it sweeps into her mouth. Natasha runs her fingers over Sharon’s cheek and tangles them in her hair. She pulls Sharon closer. This is what she needs. She needs to be distracted.

 

Sharon breaks the kiss and Natasha huffs, half expecting her to take it all back. Instead, Sharon rolls onto her back and arches her hips up, off the bed. She hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her sweatpants and pulls them down, revealing her long legs. She kicks her sweatpants off to the side and they land on the floor with a muted thump. She quickly slips under the covers and rolls over so that she’s pinning Natasha down. Her leg is fitted between Natasha’s thighs and her arms bracket Natasha’s head. “What do you need?” The breathy quality of Sharon’s voice sends a heat running down Natasha’s body and it settles in the pit of her stomach.

 

“You,” Natasha whispers. She reaches up to run her thumb over Sharon’s swollen bottom lip. “That mouth-“ Sharon kisses the pad of her thumb and leans down to kiss her. Their lips slide together. Sharon’s lips are soft and warm. Natasha sinks her teeth into Sharon’s lower lip and she gets a groan in response.

 

Natasha’s hands find their way to Sharon’s hips and she slides them up, under Sharon’s t-shirt. She drags her nails up Sharon’s side as she licks up into her mouth. Then Sharon’s mouth is moving down. She presses open mouthed kisses to Natasha’s neck, following the line of her jugular down to her collar bone. “Get this off,” she murmurs into Natasha’s skin as she pulls up the hem of Natasha’s shirt.

 

“You first,” Natasha counters.

 

Sharon huffs out a breath and sits up to slide her shirt up over her head. She throws it off in the general direction of her sweatpants. Natasha reaches down and arches her back up as she pulls her own shirt off as well. She doesn’t even have the chance to toss it aside before Sharon’s lips are on her again. This time, Sharon sucks little red marks into the side of her breast. The hand she isn’t using to steady herself cups the other, kneading the soft flesh between her fingers.

 

Natasha’s hips grind up when she feels Sharon’s tongue carefully drawing circles around her nipple. Sharon’s fingers slide down over her stomach and she pauses at Natasha’s hip. Natasha huffs with impatience and she reaches down to grip Sharon’s wrist and guide her hand to where she needs it most. Sharon chuckles against Natasha’s skin and Natasha can’t help but roll her eyes. The next second, her back arches a bit as Sharon’s finger’s slip between her folds to gently massage her most sensitive spot. Between Sharon’s warm, wet mouth working at her nipple and her fingers teasing her, she’s not going to last.

 

One of Sharon’s long fingers slips inside of her and she turns her head to moan into the crook of her arm. Sharon’s finger slides easily because she’s already so wet. She feels another finger join the first, stretching and filling her up. As Sharon fingers her, Natasha finds sweet friction by grinding into the heel of her hand. She’s so close, her heels dig into the mattress and she arches into Sharon’s touch. She’s on the edge for what feels like forever until the waves of pleasure roll through her and she’s left loose-limbed and panting.

 

She twitches when Sharon slips her fingers from her. Natasha notices she’s breathing hard as well. Sharon opens her mouth to speak but Natasha flips them so that she’s pinning Sharon. Sharon looks up with surprise as if she hadn’t realized that Natasha _could_ have done this from the beginning, but she chose to allow herself to be pinned. She reaches down to massage Sharon’s pert breasts in her hands. Her cherry colored nipples are already hard and her chest is flushed all he way down to her belly button. She carefully rolls one of Sharon’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger before giving it an experimental tug. Sharon’s eyes flutter shut and she inhales sharply. Natasha takes note.

 

She adjusts herself so that she’s kneeling between Sharon’s legs. She trails kisses down Sharon’s ribs and over her stomach. Sharon watches her with wide, dark eyes. Her lips are parted slightly and she breathes through her mouth. Natasha pauses at the top of Sharon’s cotton panties. She uses her first to fingers to pull the fabric aside as she nips at the soft skin between Sharon’s thighs. She alternates bites and kisses up Sharon’s thigh. When she gets to Sharon’s folds she flattens her tongue and licks a stripe up the outside before slipping her tongue between them.

 

When Sharon comes it’s with Natasha’s mouth sucking mercilessly at her clit and her fingers rubbing that sensitive spot inside her. Turns out Sharon is not quiet at all. Between the breathless moans and whispered parts of her name (Nat mostly, but at one point it was Tasha) Natasha couldn’t hear herself think. She liked it that way.

 

Sharon kisses her deeply when she crawls back up. The thought of Sharon tasting herself on Natasha’s tongue has her feeling warm again. “Even better than I thought it’d be,” Sharon murmurs.

 

“So you _have_ thought about it before.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Natasha sucks at being alone. Sometimes that means putting her faith and love into someone who’s not worth the time. But, sometimes that means finding someone who knows exactly what she needs.


End file.
